Fairy Tale Endings
by cal40241
Summary: A look at the secrets that even the best of friends could never tell each other.
1. Needles for Feelings

Gemma wonders why I do it

Disclaimer: Not mine

"I wonder how many times each day she dies a little."

-Libba Bray

Gemma wonders why I do it. I don't mind her asking me; it's not as if she'd ever understand. None of them would. And how could I expect them to? They were all born into wealth, born into beauty. Without either of those, I've no chance in the world.

Gemma's so brave that she'd never harm herself, not if she saw another way. She always does find another way. In any situation, Gemma can survive. She'll come out victorious, or if not, at least she faced her fears. Gemma has the realms and that Gypsy boy to comfort her. She thinks no one knows about him, thinks she'll forget him, but I'm not so numb that I don't notice my best friend falling in love.

Felicity's so brash and shocking that if she were me, she'd run away somewhere fantastic, just to escape my fate. She wouldn't bother to do it gracefully, or to obey out social rules. She'd just go. Felicity's always been powerful that way. She thinks I'm an unfeeling coward. A coward I've always been, but now that I have my knitting needles, I have all the feelings that my heart can hold.

Pippa's so beautiful that she'd find her own prince and live happily ever after without even trying. She doesn't have watery eyes, or a dress that she only wishes would fit her. Pippa would happily skip off into the sunset, because things just seem to work out that way for girls like her. Pippa would never hold a needle in her hand and want to rake it across her translucent skin.

Gemma wonders why I do it, Felicity would have no patience for it if she knew, and Pippa would only worry about the scars spoiling my skin and making me even more unattractive. They don't understand, but I don't mind. Their lives will turn out all right somehow. Gemma will save the realms and learn to love her Gypsy, Felicity will go off somewhere where she won't have to be pretty, just powerful. And Pippa will marry a rich and handsome man, have many children, and go to all the balls and parties that she could possible desire.

They'll all get what they want, and how could they not? They were made for this world. I suppose happy endings weren't meant for people like me.

A/N: I'm thinking of doing this with all 4 girls. Thoughts?


	2. Knock, Knock, Knock

I hear knocking on my bedroom door, and I know he's come for me.

He comes for me nearly every night now. He insists that it's my fault for being so devastatingly desirable, and I suppose in a way, I believe him. Normal looking girls don't have to lock their doors to keep the monsters away. Ugly, dowdy girls don't have burning, aching insides from all the times they've been rubbed raw, both inside and out. Girls with dull hair, strange eyes, and marks on their skin don't wake from dark and disturbing nightmares to that rhythmic knocking.

Regardless of why he does it, he's here always. I know that locking the door angers him, and I sometimes enjoy it. His angry touching feels better, more right than when he pretends to love me for real. That knocking can go on for what feels like hours, as if by making a steady stream of noise, I might decide that it's all right to open up for him, that maybe it'll stop hurting this time.

Eventually, the monster will stop knocking, and he'll begin to whisper. He says all sorts of dirty, vaguely threatening things in hopes that I'll open my door to him. He thinks that if he talks me through what he'll do to me, that I'll begin to enjoy it. Through all his whispers, his knocking echoes inside my head, keeping time to my pounding heart.

The whispers grow louder and louder, and he insists that I must open the door this very instant, or he'll be forced to call the maid for assistance. She can always get the stable boys to take the hinges off the door, as long as he tells them that he's afraid for me. He'll say that he's worried that I haven't answered his call, so I'll have to open up to him. Knock, knock, knock. My heart keeps beat while my head turns off.

So I finally unlock the door, slowly, as if that will make him go away. He steps into the room, upraising me critically, for I'm wearing a nightgown, a robe, slippers, and a quilt around my shoulders. It's far more clothing than he likes, but I keep hoping that maybe he'll suddenly find me ugly, maybe he won't want me this way anymore. The knocking is all that's keeping me from dashing away from him.

I glare at him, but the moment I do, I know it was the wrong thing. The fire inside me that scares most people only excites him further. He loves me when I'm angry, even more than when I'm afraid. I know better than to be afraid of him now. The worst he can do is this, and he's done it so many times that it's hard to be concerned about it anymore. Besides that, I've learned that if I just focus on the knocking, I will soon forget where I am, and he can't get to me.

He makes me undress myself first, and then him. He takes control of me soon after that, but something about me removing his dressing robe, me at his feet, undoing his buttons makes him happy.

I used to throw up afterwards, but that made him angrier than was safe for me, so now I swallow my poison without complaint. He never lingers long after, probably because he knows I'll be swallowed up in loneliness as soon as he's gone. I'm many things when he's touching me, but never lonely.

Once he leaves, I splash water on my face over and over again, willing myself to stay awake. Perhaps dark circles will make me less attractive to him. The knocking in my heart continued, changing to shudders as the time passes.

I can only imagine what my school friends would say if they could see me like this. Spirited, bold Felicity Worthington bested by a middle-aged man nearly every evening after midnight. All the things I say I'll become, and all I am is a whore.

Gemma suspects it, though she's never said as much. It's not as if she could do anything about the admiral taking fancy to me if I confirmed her fears. Pippa, my beautiful Pippa is blissfully unaware of anything unpleasant in the world, and Ann is too wrapped up in denying that she could be free if she wanted that she'd never consider such a disgusting scandal.

I put on my mask each morning as I wake. I fear if I don't show the world just how powerful I can become, I may be visited every night until the day I die. Knock, knock, knock.


End file.
